I read
what you wrote inside your notebook. You know; the one with horses on
it that look like penguins, that one. The little blue one that's
next to your bedside table – I read it. I know the truth. I didn't
believe them before, but the truth really does hurt. It hurts
a lot.

I read
what you wrote inside your notebook. The part that was in the form of
a letter to the girl who made your life a living hell – I read it.
I read your words as you said you were writing a pointless letter,
that you never really would send it, but it made you feel better. I
read the part where you said you didn't hate the girl, and I didn't
understand.

My mum
told me a little while ago that you confessed to your mum that you
had wanted to die. I didn't believe her. Well, for a while I did,
bur then I got to thinking. She said not to tell you. She said that
if you weren't going to tell me then I "shouldn't know". She
said that I should play dumb. And a voice in my head whispered to me
and said she was lying. You would never do something like that. You
would never kill yourself…would you?

I read
what you wrote inside your notebook, inside your letter. I read the
paragraph where you told that hellish girl that you almost killed
yourself. I read the paragraph where you said that you wanted to die.

I read
what you wrote inside your notebook. I read it, I read it, I read it.
Now I really wish I hadn't.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.